


blood under the bridge.

by waterdeaths



Category: Naruto
Genre: Burning a body is way more difficult than suggested; do not try this at home, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterdeaths/pseuds/waterdeaths
Summary: Zabuza dies during the battle for the bridge. Haku dies with him, though his heart yet beats.





	blood under the bridge.

**Author's Note:**

> One day I will write a 30+chapter fic about Haku surviving the battle in Wave Country, inheriting Kubikiribocho, getting shark teeth and a terrifying reputation as 'The Son of the Demon,' but that day ... is not today. Here's a ficlet.

 

The mission fails, Zabuza dies, and Haku unravels.

The cement is cold and wet against his forehead, a strange noise like a hawk’s cry ringing in his ears as he weeps for the man who gave him a purpose and to whom he gave himself in return, who he was fractions of a second too late to save; the sudden flurry of snowfall indistinguishable from his freezing tears. Five hours ago his confidence in Zabuza and his own abilities had been so deeply engrained he’d begun sketching out preliminary plans for assassinating Gato and infiltrating Yagura's trusted inner sanctum. Now he wants to die. He wants to die, he wants to die, he needs to die before Zabuza travels too far down that road for him to catch up —

Something warm and solid knocks away the senbon inching toward his throat and slams into his shoulder, knocking the wind from his bruised lungs before bowling him over and swarming around him, gripping at the collar of his haori. It is only when Naruto squeezes him and tearfully shouts “You can’t! You can’t!” into his crumpled chest that Haku realizes he has been screaming everything he's been thinking out loud.

 

* * *

 

He has a collapsed sternum, broken collarbone, a concussion, two broken ribs, a constellation of raikiri burns on his chest and left side of his face, and a broken heart.

Kakashi sends Sakura to find Haku some new clothes, has Naruto and Sasuke to fetch the medical supply bag, then kicks them out of the room to keep an eye on Inari. Kakashi throws the medical bag strap over one shoulder and carefully lifts Haku up with both arms, balancing the meagre bulk of the boy’s body against his chest as he slowly carries him to the bathroom and props him up in the tub. The Land of Waves is a poor land, but the water that filters into the tub is relatively free of silt, to Kakashi’s pleasant surprise. They don’t speak as Kakashi crouches over to him, undresses him, or wipes away the dirt, dried blood, cement dust. The broken bones that can be splinted are; the wounds that can be sewn or cauterized shut are closed. The pain is horrible, like salt in a mortal wound, but not so much as a hiss escapes Haku’s lips. Even with all else stolen from him, he still has his pride.

Wringing out the last of the blood into a bucket, Kakashi sits back on his heels to look at Haku, the fabric covering the bottom half of his face bunching around the jawline, his visible eyelid drooped slightly as if on the verge of a sigh. The sigh sounds heavy with the unsaid. Maybe heavy enough Kakashi'll choke.

Haku ignores him. Watches murky, lukewarm water swill lazily around his navel. Calculates how fast he could drown himself if Kakashi were to step away for a moment. Thinks the copy-nin just might let him so long as he were discrete about it. Wonders what, exactly, the copy-nin could want to say to him that he’d want to hear after all of this.

Chakra surges in his veins, straining his exhausted system. If it’s _I’m sorry_ Haku will kill him. He doesn’t know how, but he will.

Kakashi’s hand twitches at the chakra flare, but his hands are as steady as the damp rag they lay across Haku’s brow. Kakashi's hand lingers at the edges of the washrag. Haku can feel the man staring at him, patiently waiting for his attention. When he finally looks up the tension in Kakashi’s shoulders lessens, almost as if he’s relieved.

“Naruto admires you,” the man says. This time Haku flinches, immediately regrets it when the gesture tugs on his collar, ribcage.

“I’m glad you two were their first opponents,” Kakashi continues on, using the wash rag to dab a chakra burn dangerously close to Haku’s temple. His voice is quiet but not gentle, and utterly without pity. The familiar sound brings a bitter taste to Haku's mouth. “I’m glad it was you.”

 

* * *

 

Haku directs the burning of Zabuza’s body. The genin are uneasy with the task, but Kakashi follows Haku’s instructions without comment, and the children follow his lead.

It’s been two days since the battle on the Bridge and the body’s begun to bloat. Sakura screams when a maggot falls from Zabuza’s ear canal onto her hand, then claps her hands over her mouth, leaving Sasuke and Naruto to struggle under the additional weight as she whips around to look at Haku, laid out like a ragdoll in an old wheelbarrow cushioned with threadbare rags, staring past them toward the sea. A metallic ocean breeze tugs at a dirt brown rough-spun haori, one of several of her dead husband’s hand-me-downs Naruto had begged off a reluctant Tsunami. Haku's so small the clothes are constantly slipping off one shoulder or the other. He looks like a doll abandoned by a careless child. Still, he looks better than he feels.

“There was a bug, and,” Sakura stammers. “ I didn’t mean to. I — I’m s-sorry.”

Haku’s blinks, as if confused, and casts about a moment before his gaze drops to meet hers. His eyes are hazy and unfocused, like clouded glass.

“Why?” Haku says flatly from somewhere far, far away, “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

 

* * *

 

 

The burning takes eight hours. After the first three the Leaf shinobi slip indoors for dinner. Haku remains outside, blankly watching the flames struggle to devour a man torn from the womb of the Bloody Mist. He loses track of the time in the eddying mist.

Sometime later Kakashi returns with a chair, two bowls of rice and some kind of root vegetable, a pair of chopsticks and a spoon. He sits several paces behind Haku, eating quietly, occasionally getting up to refresh the pyre. The air stinks of burnt hair, acrid fat, spoiled meat. Haku closes his eyes and leans into the smoke, inhaling deeply. Falling soot irritates the welts on his face. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything at all.

When all that’s left are cracked bones smoldering among the coals, Kakashi wheels Haku back to the house, collects the majority of the ashes in metal urn procured from who knows where, and places it in Haku’s lap. The metal is so hot some of the skin on his palms stick to it, the damage quick and horrible and bloodless.

Kakashi bandages his hands and sets the urn aside. “It’s going to be hot for a few hours,” Kakashi says, as if Haku’s childhood hadn’t been an endless line of burying and burning, burying and burning. As if these burns were not the least of his wounds. From what he’s seen, the copy-nin is a shameless man. Yet Kakashi pauses, licking dry lips beneath the mask. “Likely it’ll stay hot all night.”

Haku says nothing, just stares at Kakashi until the man ducks out of the room and quietly shuts the door behind him. That night he wraps the urn in a blanket before curling around it, this warmth he cannot bear to forget.

 

* * *

 

 

He tells Team Seven how to find the treehouse, where the valuables are, and they clear it out before razing it to the ground. Kakashi asks him what he wants to do with the rest of Zabuza’s effects. Outdated transmissions, clothing, food and water rations, two Bingo Books, camping equipment, encrypted plans, spare equipment, miscellany. Nothing confidential. Not that it would’ve mattered, anyway. Not now. It goes without saying Team Seven will claim any valuables on Zabuza’s person, not that there’ll be much of those. The only things of worth Zabuza had owned were Kubikiribocho and his dreams. Both now lie cold and dead in the dirt.

“Burn everything,” Haku says. “But bring me the sword.”

 

 


End file.
